


The Dead in the Night

by Nimiety



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Dream Sex, Force Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimiety/pseuds/Nimiety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan is met with an unusual visitor on Tatooine</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dead in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Star Wars kink meme: https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=928330#cmt928330

Obi-Wan knew he'd been alone for far too long when he began seeing ghosts. Well. One ghost. He was sure it was his imagination – surely unnatural movement at the corner of his eye was just wind, swirling through the endless dust, and a glimpse of blue over sand where none should be was a mirage, nothing more. For anything else was impossible, of course.

Or perhaps it was wishful thinking. It was _lonely_ on Tatooine, this far-flung planet so distant from everything he’d known. _Anything,_ even a silent spectral companion, was better than the crushing isolation he’d become all too familiar with. And if he imagined the ghost to be Qui-Gon, well, being back on Tatooine, one of the last places they’d visited together, was certain to resurrect memories, if not the dead. Qui-Gon. His Master, his – well, it hardly mattered now, did it? Dead. Dead, all of them, everyone he’d ever cared about. Dead or gone far beyond anyone’s ability to reach.

Days, weeks, months had passed. The endless sand was his only existence, the susurration of wind his only companion. But sometimes he swore he heard voices. _A_ voice. _Qui-Gon’s_ voice. Hallucinations, undoubtedly, but at least arguing with his own subconscious gave him something to do.

_Eat, Obi-Wan. You’re no good to anyone if you waste away to nothing through neglect._

“Oh, do please shut up. I eat plenty to sustain myself.” A silence, not of inattention but of disapproval. Obi-Wan sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll eat. _Then_ will you leave me alone?” At that he was _almost_ certain he felt a pat on his head, but there was only the ceaseless wind, blowing through his hair.

Oh, but the voice wasn’t done with him. _Now the laundry._

Obi-Wan glared at the air around him, but it was hard to keep up with no visible focus for his ire, only a voice he imagined he heard. “Yes, Master. Whatever you say, Master,” he grumbled as he collected the clothing strewn over his floor. He might be going mad, all alone in this desert, but at least he’d do it neatly.

* * *

 

One night, Obi-Wan sat up in bed, suddenly certain he was no longer alone. Looking around, his eyes fell upon Qui-Gon, and he froze. This _couldn’t_ be real. Qui-Gon was dead, but he looked so _real…_

Obi-Wan jumped out of bed and threw his arms around Qui-Gon, burying his face into the folds of his Master’s robe. He knew he had to be dreaming, but he didn’t think he minded if it meant that Qui-Gon was here with him, looking so wonderfully, gloriously alive, his body heat burning into Obi-Wan’s skin.

And if this was a dream… Obi-Wan raised his face, tentative, to meet Qui-Gon’s smiling eyes. Feeling greatly daring, he did what he had never dared as a Padawan – he raised himself on his toes and pressed his lips against Qui-Gon’s. For long, precious moments, Qui-Gon met his kiss, their breaths melding, before Qui-Gon pulled away with a sigh.

“I am real, you know,” Qui-Gon began, then paused. “For a certain value of reality.”

Obi-Wan tried to move back, suddenly unsure, but Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and pulled their bodies back together before continuing. “I have always been with you, Obi-Wan. Since I became one with the Force, I have watched over you as best I could.” Qui-Gon’s face grew sad, weariness filling his features. “Unfortunately, in this state there was little I could do to influence events. Even speech was difficult away from areas strong in the Force.”

“Then what _are_ you? How are you here? Why _now_?” Obi-Wan knew he sounded on the verge of hysteria, but it wasn’t every day he was confronted by the – ghost? Was Qui-Gon a ghost? – of his former Master, looking exactly the same as he had that final day on Naboo.

“I am a manifestation of the Force, but I retain my identity separate from it. I’ve been training, but it has taken time to complete enough to come to you like this. Even now, it is only in dreams we can truly meet.” Qui-Gon smiled, but it was a small, sad smile, quickly gone. “And now I will train you, as I couldn’t finish in life.”

 And _oh,_ now Qui-Gon’s hand was moving up and down Obi-Wan’s back in soothing strokes, and Obi-Wan could have _purred_ if his focus hadn’t been on Qui-Gon’s words. Obi-Wan arched his back into the touch, and Qui-Gon’s somber expression changed to that tiny, secretive smile Obi-Wan remembered so well, nearly hidden within mustache and beard but peeking out like a small ray of sunshine.

"Master— Qui-Gon, I—" Obi-Wan began, then stopped, at a loss. How  _did_  one communicate with one’s Master, whether a dream or truly back from the Force? The man he had  _loved_? The man, he was discovering, he still loved, with all his heart? He felt like a teenager again, fresh in the realization of his feelings and as uncertain how to go on as before, desperate not to reveal unseemly emotion lest he alienate his Master and end up kicked out of the Order. But the Order was dead and gone, now, and only Obi-Wan was left. Obi-Wan and this ghost. He felt dazed, disconnected, unsure of his current reality but desperate not to let this chance escape him. “Qui-Gon, whatever you’ve become, you’re here now, so will you _please_ just kiss me already?”

Qui-Gon’s smile only grew. And this time, it was Qui-Gon who leaned down, brushing his lips gently against Obi-Wan’s, a tentative question. Obi-Wan answered in the only way he could, opening his mouth to Qui-Gon, feeling warmth, breath,  _life_  as their tongues caressed, sliding together in heated play. Their beards rasped against each other as they kissed, and Obi-Wan suddenly found himself desperate for _more,_ more sensation, more touch, more _skin._ He pulled back, fumbling at Qui-Gon’s clothing, pushing tabards and tunics aside to reveal bare shoulders. Obligingly, Qui-Gon went to work on Obi-Wan’s belt, even as Obi-Wan began running slow, reverent fingers over Qui-Gon’s newly revealed chest. Obi-Wan paused over Qui-Gon’s heart, the place Darth Maul’s blade had pierced, and wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disturbed to see no mark, only unblemished skin.

Then Qui-Gon palmed him through his trousers, and all other thoughts fled Obi-Wan’s mind. He gasped and redoubled his efforts to remove Qui-Gon’s clothes until the two of them stood, torsos bared, just barely touching, savoring this new experience. Obi-Wan buried his face in Qui-Gon's neck, inhaling his scent, something so uniquely Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan had to blink against the sudden sting of tears memory brought.

“I want to see all of you.” Qui-Gon’s voice was gruff, and feeling shy again, Obi-Wan slowly moved back to remove his trousers, peeling them off as Qui-Gon did the same, and finally they were naked. Obi-Wan just stared for a moment, drinking in the sight, then smiling, almost giddy with delight, he grabbed Qui-Gon’s hand and they tumbled onto his bed, rolling until he straddled Qui-Gon’s thighs.

Obi-Wan explored Qui-Gon’s body with hands that grew ever bolder, mapping each contour and valley, every scar crisscrossing otherwise smooth skin. Skin that had in the past been covered by layer upon layer of robe was now exposed to Obi-Wan’s awed gaze and questing fingers, and he delighted in each reaction he pulled from Qui-Gon, every moan and sigh music to his ears. He trailed his hands down Qui-Gon’s chest and abdomen, reveling in the warm skin over well-defined musculature.

Qui-Gon’s hands, in turn, played over Obi-Wan, finally drawing a small yelp from him as they passed over his nipples. Qui-Gon paused, then returned to trace around each of Obi-Wan’s nipples in ever tightening circles, sending arousal spiraling through his body. In retaliation, Obi-Wan reached down to stroke Qui-Gon’s erection, delighting at the gasp he drew from the other man as he ran his fingers up and down its length. Qui-Gon reached for Obi-Wan’s hand, stopping him, and rolled their bodies so that now he covered Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan reached up and buried a hand in Qui-Gon’s long silvery brown hair instead, pulling their faces together for a hungry kiss.

After long, heated moments, Qui-Gon pulled away, tracing kisses along Obi-Wan’s jaw, then neck, before finally returning to sensitive nipples. He kissed one, then the other, then darted out his tongue to lick one, and Obi-Wan jerked, his entire body going taut at the sensation. Qui-Gon licked his way down Obi-Wan’s belly, leaving a hot trail in his wake, and finally settled in on his prize. He ran his tongue along Obi-Wan's length before fastening his mouth around the head, and Obi-Wan clenched his fists in the sheets against the shock of a warm, wet mouth on his cock, moving up and down, the heady sensation of a tongue swirling around the tip almost too much. He shivered as Qui-Gon's hair brushed against his thighs with every movement, beard scratching lightly but oh so wonderfully against skin. With every movement, Obi-Wan felt himself reaching towards his peak, closer, _closer,_ his body quivering as Qui-Gon mouth worked him relentlessly.

“I’m, ah, _Qui-Gon!”_ and Obi-Wan was coming. He almost felt like he was floating, held aloft on a tide of pleasure as Qui-Gon gave him a last few strokes with his tongue. Slowly Obi-Wan fell back down, opening his eyes to see Qui-Gon smirking from between his thighs.

“That was, ah.” Obi-Wan blinked lazily, trying to pull himself back together after the best damned orgasm he could remember having. “That was nice.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “Nice?” He crawled back up over Obi-Wan, moving closer until their faces nearly touched, and now Obi-Wan could feel the burning length of Qui-Gon’s erection pressed against him. Moving his mouth right against Obi-Wan’s ear, Qui-Gon whispered, “Is that all?” before nipping gently at the lobe. “I think we’ll try and do something about that.” Qui-Gon pulled back again and kissed Obi-Wan on the tip of his nose. Still glowing in the aftermath of his release, Obi-Wan just smiled, languidly wrapping his arms around Qui-Gon’s back.

Qui-Gon reached over the side of the bed, fumbling around in his discarded robe before his hand emerged with a small bottle. At Obi-Wan’s raised eyebrow, Qui-Gon opened the bottle and poured oil onto his hand. “It always pays to be prepared,” he said. “Even in dreams.” Then he paused. “Do you want this, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan’s response was to grab Qui-Gon’s face and pull them back together for a hard kiss. “What do you think?” he said. Moving back once again, Qui-Gon smiled, and Obi-Wan _melted_ at the wicked joy in Qui-Gon’s face.

Slicking his fingers with the oil, Qui-Gon moved down between Obi-Wan’s thighs, spreading Obi-Wan’s legs wide. Then slowly, gently, he pushed one finger into Obi-Wan’s entrance, moving in just slightly until Obi-Wan’s body adjusted. Obi-Wan watched, feeling almost detached, his attention on the exquisite stretching as Qui-Gon slid a second finger into him, opening him wider. Then Qui-Gon did _something_ , moved his fingers _just right,_ and Obi-Wan was no longer detached at all as pleasure flooded through him.

A third finger joined the two already moving within Obi-Wan, stretching him further, and he squirmed, trying to push them in _deeper_. Then they were gone, replaced by the blunt tip of Qui-Gon’s cock against him, pushing in on a slow but firm thrust. Obi-Wan gasped as he was filled, and Qui-Gon paused, looking down at him so _tenderly_ that Obi-Wan had to blink to hold back tears. This was _Qui-Gon_ , and they were together, and in that moment Obi-Wan could think of nothing more perfect.

Then Qui-Gon was thrusting, in and out, in and out, hitting _just_ _right_ so that with each thrust Obi-Wan felt himself rise back up towards release, his body tightening as they moved together. His fingers scrabbled at Qui-Gon’s back, searching for anything to anchor him before he drifted away on a cloud of exultation. He was so close, _so close_ , and then Qui-Gon reached between them to stroke him, and Obi-Wan was coming again, shouting as he spasmed around Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon gave a last few thrusts, his rhythm becoming erratic, and he growled into Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he came.

After a few moments, Qui-Gon rolled off of Obi-Wan and kissed him gently on the forehead before settling down beside him. Obi-Wan lay one hand on Qui-Gon’s chest, drowsy, but suddenly, inexplicably, too nervous to speak. They’d just had _sex,_ fantastic, mind-blowingly wonderful sex, and _now_ he was nervous?

Bracing himself, Obi-Wan raised his upper body until he could look Qui-Gon in the eyes, see how he reacted. “I love you, Qui-Gon.” And it was out. A truth he’d held within himself for so long, through his apprenticeship and through Qui-Gon’s death, and finally he had the chance to confess it. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved you.”

A pause, and Obi-Wan’s heart was in his throat, half terrified of what Qui-Gon’s response would be, but what he got was Qui-Gon’s radiant smile. “And I love you, my Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan kissed Qui-Gon again, this time without the urgency of their previous kisses. A slow, gentle kiss, filled with wonder and caring and _love._ Tired now, but unspeakably happy, Obi-Wan cuddled close to Qui-Gon and fell asleep wrapped in his arms.

* * *

 

Slowly, Obi-Wan began to rise up towards wakefulness, feeling warm, happier than he could remember being in years, and more than a little bit sticky and sore. Then he froze. He was alone. So it _had_ been all a dream – a wonderful dream, but still just the dream of a lonely man, isolated… A sudden swat to the top of his head – faint, but undeniably more than his imagination – stopped him mid-thought and he looked up, _really_ looked. And that was when he saw it. Saw _him._

“Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan’s voice wavered, cracking embarrassingly, but he didn’t _care._ A ghostly blue apparition hovered beside him, so very faint in the harsh desert sunlight streaming through the window, but unquestionably _there._ And Qui-Gon was smirking in a decidedly wicked fashion. He was also glowing blue and floating, but that hardly seemed to matter as long as he was beside Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan raised a hand to that familiar beloved face, but winced as his hand passed through the semitransparent face. Qui-Gon’s smile grew a little sad, but he copied the gesture, gentle fingers against Obi-Wan’s cheek, and this time Obi-Wan felt a feather light caress of the Force.

“I told you I would always be here for you from now on, Obi-Wan.” A pause, and a return of that wicked grin Obi-Wan was growing to love the sight of. “And especially at night.” 

* * *

 

As the sky grew dim, Obi-Wan sat outside his door, watching the twin suns redden and dip towards the horizon. One by one, he watched as stars began appearing in the sky, enjoying the cool breeze that blew across his skin even as the sand he lay on retained the afternoon’s heat. He was about to head back inside when suddenly, without warning, he found himself with a lap full of ghost.

“You’re a bit big for this, aren’t you?” Obi-Wan said, but he smiled.

Qui-Gon’s response was to gently place his chin on the top of Obi-Wan’s head. “I’m dead, remember? Dead means no mass.” He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, and despite their ghostly nature, Obi-Wan enjoyed the faint buzz of the Force wherever they came into contact.

“I try not to remember, thank you very much. You’ve become quite the menace in your afterlife.”

Qui-Gon drifted up – that was another thing Obi-Wan had yet to become accustomed to, this _drifting_ – and towards the house. “Come along, Obi-Wan,” he called over his shoulder, “we need to get you fed.”

Obi-Wan smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Master.” Even after all this time, Qui-Gon still seemed convinced he was the same hungry Padawan he’d once been, in need of sustenance every couple hours. The only thing dying had changed was that Qui-Gon’s diet now truly consisted of only fresh air and determination.

Life might not be perfect, but Obi-Wan had Qui-Gon here with him, and all things considered, this was better than he could ever have hoped for.


End file.
